


a pillar of support

by Sanna_Black_Slytherin



Series: The Other 51 [27]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Asexual James Madison, BAMF Angelica, Bisexual Alexander Hamilton, Gay Thomas Jefferson, George Clinton is an asshole, Henry Laurens' A+ Parenting, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Thomas' dad kicks him out, Washington is Alex and Laf's foster father, Washington takes him in, because that's what he does
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 13:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9327224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanna_Black_Slytherin/pseuds/Sanna_Black_Slytherin
Summary: After Thomas and James are outed to their homophobic community, they are forced to become friends with Thomas' former nemesis, Hamilton.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The title for this fic originates, for once, not from the musical but from a letter which Jefferson wrote to Madison on February 17, 1826: _'To myself you have been a pillar of support thro’ life. take care of me when dead, and be assured that I shall leave with you my last affections.'_ The whole thing is rather sweet, really. One line goes: _'The friendship which has subsisted between us, now half a century, and the harmony of our political principles and pursuits, have been sources of constant happiness to me thro’ that long period.'_
> 
> Also, remember how I said that Alexander Hamilton loved commas? Well, Thomas Jefferson, as it turns out, really freaking loves long paragraphs. Check out his letter to Madison from September 6, 1789; it's a mess.
> 
> Also also, the comments people leave on bookmarks are my favourite thing ever.

The ringing phone startled James out of his reverie. He good up and crossed the room in order to pick it up, smiling when he saw Thomas' name flash on the screen. "Hello, Thomas," he said, leaning against his desk with a stupid grin. "What's up?"

"Have you seen Clinton's Facebook?" Thomas' voice sounded urgent.

James frowned. “No, not recently,” he said, returning to his laptop and typing in the website. “Why, what's going on? Has he made a fool out of himself again?”

“Go to his wall,” Thomas urged. “You'll understand,” his voice was laced with a feeling James struggled to interpret.

“Thomas?” James frowned, though he knew that Thomas couldn't see him. “You are scaring me here. What's going on?”

“Just... open it, will you?” Thomas' voice took on a pleading tone, one James seldom heard.

With trepidation, James looked up George Clinton's wall. He froze when he saw it: a photo of two teens kissing. Though it was clearly taken from a distance, Thomas' afro was unmistakable, as was James' long coat. “Thomas—“ he began, but could not find it in himself to continue.

"Shit," James leaned back from the computer, as though distancing himself from the image would make it disappear.

"Yeah," Thomas replied hollowly.

James kept reading. Clinton had tagged the photo with the words 'disgusting faggots'. The comments underneath were even worse—some of them even straying into threatening territory.

They were quiet for a moment, then Thomas spoke again. "Can—can I come over?"

"Always," James replied instantly.

Thomas went on as though he had not heard James. "I mean, my parents aren't at home but I really don't want to be here when they find out, and they _will_ find out, and I know that your parents aren't exactly accepting but they'll at least do that thing where they pointedly ignore any piece of information that doesn't fit into their perfect perfect little world and I'm sorry for insulting your parents and I _know_ that I'll have to confront my father eventually but right now, I really need—"

"Thomas," James interrupted calmly, "I said yes."

" _Thank you_ ," Thomas breathed a relieved sigh.

"But that doesn't solve the problem, or even avert it," James continued, biting his lip as he was wont to do whenever he got nervous. "You know as well as I do that our town isn't exactly known for its tolerance of things they perceive as abnormal, and we _definitely_ qualify."

James knew Thomas well enough that he could visualize Thomas pinching his eyes as he spoke. "I don't know, Jemmy. Most of our friends are outright homophobic, and make derogatory comments about gay people all the time."

"I don't suppose that this situation would be solved if we told them we weren't actually, y'know, _sleeping_ together?" James suggested, which got a laugh out of Thomas. If nothing else, James counted that as a victory.

"I doubt that, Jemmy," his boyfriend replied. "If anything, they will start asking questions. Why aren't we having sex? Is there anything wrong with us? Is that why we're 'faggots'?" James could practically hear the air quotes in Thomas' voice. "The shit we would have to take if we both came out would make _this_ seem like a walk in the park."

"I don't know, Thomas," James began speculatively. "We've already been forcibly outed. What could it hurt? It could actually be liberating."

Thomas snorted. "Jemmy, I love you more than life itself, but are you actually as dumb as Laurens claims? It can _always_ be worse. The fact that you think it cannot is simply a sign that you don't have a vivid enough imagination."

James suddenly groaned. "Please, _no_."

"What is it, James?" Thomas asked with concern. "I assume that you're no longer thinking about outing yourself."

" _Hamilton_ ," James offered as an explanation.

Apparently not explanation enough. "What about that dickwad?" Thomas' voice held a tone of irritation that never failed to make its appearance whenever the subject of Alexander Hamilton came up.

"He'll be on our case and you know it, especially on yours—how we never told him we were gay, and how you used to make fun of him for his sexuality and encouraged your friends to do the same, and how you used it against him in debate," James rattled off the problems as though citing a list. (He would rather parade around the town naked than admit that he had once prepared a similar list of problems that would arise, were they ever to come out; Hamilton had featured on that list on more than one position.)

It was Thomas' turn to groan. "Jesus, don't remind me. He will never let it go. He's like a dog with a juicy bone in that regard. He'll be _insufferable_ now."

"On the other hand," James went on, "he and his friends might also be the only people who wouldn't reject us based on our relationship. I mean, considering Hamilton's thing with Laurens and Schuyler..." James trailed off thoughtfully.

"No, he _will_ reject us, based on his stupid stubbornness if nothing else," Thomas said in a defeated voice.

James sighed. "I think you're vilifying him," he said reproachfully. "He's not as bad as you make him out to be—at least, he wasn't when I did that history project with him."

"I still haven't figured out how you haven't killed him," Thomas said. "Had it been me, I would have drugged him by the end of it."

This made James laugh. "I think your problem is that you two are far too similar to ever get along," he smiled.

Thomas sniffed. "If you're gonna insult me, I'm gonna leave," he said petulantly.

James snickered. "How people don't notice that you're a geek is beyond me," he said fondly. "Star Trek? Really?"

"You love me for it," Thomas said confidently.

James smiled. "I do. God help me, but I do. Now, didn't you say that you were going to come over?"

"Be at yours in five," Thomas promised, then ended the call.

James slumped against the wall next to his bed. The past few moments, with their light banter, had helped James distract his mind from going over all possible scenarios for the foreseeable future, each worse than the next one; now, though, without Thomas there to provide a distraction, he could no longer suppress his thoughts, and scenes flashed before his eyes—everything from his friends denouncing him using the derogatory language they do often used, to Thomas being the target of physical assault. James was under no illusion that, if the matter was taken to the principal, the man would take their friends' side—it was no secret that Headmaster Adams was homophobic as well as xenophobic. It was also the reason Hamilton was often suspended (his perfect GPA was the only reason he hasn't been kicked out yet).

James sincerely hoped that it wouldn't come to that. If it meant that he would have to make a pact with Hamilton and his little gang, then so be it.

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James and Thomas made their way to school, holding each other's hand defiantly; they made a point to flaunt their relationship in everyone's faces, figuring that, hey, since the cat was out of the bag… Whispers followed them since the moment they stepped into the school. Thomas made an effort to glare at everyone who made a snide comment; most people looked away guiltily when they caught Thomas' eyes, but there were some for whom this wasn't a deterrent.

Luckily, Thomas and James shared most classes, including first period history, and as their lockers were next to each other, they made quick work of grabbing their things and hurrying to history.

When they entered the classroom, they saw that it was already mostly filled. Thomas and James' former friends were already seated, snickering at something. James and Clinton's eyes met, and the other teen sneered at them.

James pointedly turned away from him, ignoring him. He spotted Eliza Schuyler sitting alone in the first row, fiddling with her phone. She looked up when they approached, and acknowledged their presence. “What can I help you with?” she asked courteously.

"May we sit here?" James asked her, pointing to the seats next to her.

She shrugged. "It's a free country. Go ahead."

Not for the first time, James was happy that they had not alienated any of the Schuyler sisters, despite Thomas' lifelong rivalry with the middle sister's boyfriend.

No sooner had James and Thomas sat down, than Eliza turned to look at them. "I'm sorry for what happened to you," she spoke, her voice filled with genuine regret.

Thomas blinked, taken aback by her attitude. How could this amazingly considerate person could ever settle for someone like Hamilton?

"Thank you," James spoke up.

Eliza nodded and returned to her phone. Thomas and James sat in silence, ignoring the whispers coming from the other side of the classroom.

This relative peace was shattered when Laurens entered the classroom in all his energetic joy. He made a beeline for Eliza, then leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. He spotted Thomas and James beside her, and took a seat to her right with a smirk. "Morning, Eliza. I see that you've found the lovebirds," Laurens chirped.

Thomas wore an expression on his face that James had once seen on an old photo of a man being led to his death. Considering the circumstances, it was close enough.

Eliza punched his shoulder. "John, behave," she chided. "Even Alex has more tact than _that_ , and that's saying something."

"No, he doesn't," Laurens shot back. He looked around. "Speaking of Alex, where is he?"

Eliza frowned. "I thought that he was with you," she responded.

Laurens shook his head. "No, I haven't seen him all morning."

Before Eliza could reply, the person in question entered the classroom at a run, looking out of breath. He dumped his bag next to John and sat down, putting his head in his hands.

Eliza and Laurens exchanged worried glances, the subject of Thomas and James forgotten for the moment. Laurens then addressed Hamilton. "Are you alright?"

"No," came a muffled response from behind the hands, the succinctness of which set James on edge.

Apparently, Eliza picked up on it as well. "How many hours have you slept last night?" she asked. No response. She sighed. "Alex, you _have_ slept last night, haven't you?"

Laurens took one look at Hamilton and shook his head. "He hasn't," he declared. "Have you been working on that thing for Rochambeau again? You know that it's not due until _next week_ , right?"

Hamilton finally looked up, his eyes zeroing in on Laurens. "It's just incredibly rude that he thinks that he can just—" His brain finally caught up with his eyes, and he whipped his head to glare at James and Thomas. "What are _they_ doing here," he growled, the sentence coming out as a statement instead of a question.

Laurens blinked. "Don't you know?" he asked rhetorically, then took in Hamilton's state and shook his head. "You really _have_ been disconnected from the outside world," he snorted.

Hamilton rolled his eyes at Laurens' antics—as though he wasn't every bit as much of a drama queen as Laurens was, Thomas thought with dismay. "Can someone tell me why Jefferson and Madison are sitting next to us, instead of with their minions—preferably without turning it all into a scolding first? Did they finally realize that Clinton's a first-class jerk?" his tone was jeering.

"Not quite," Eliza winced, "though they might discover that fact for themselves soon enough."

Laurens took over. "Yesterday afternoon, Clinton posted a photo of them kissing online."

Hamilton blinked and looked at Thomas. He blinked again. "You're together?" He asked incredulously. "As in _together_ together? As in—"

"Yes, we're dating," James cut him off sharply before Hamilton could get into his rant.

"I can't believe this." Hamilton shook his head angrily. "Do you mean to tell me that this guy,"—he all but stabbed a finger in Thomas' direction—"Thomas Jefferson, is _gay_? The same Thomas Jefferson who has made a point of using my sexuality as an insult and a way to invalidate my opinions, is gay?"

Thomas winced. "I did stop," he defended himself.

Hamilton scoffed. "Eventually. If I am to make a guess, after you realized you had the hots for your _very male_ best friend," he said derisively.

"'Have the hots'?" Thomas parroted. "Who even says that anymore? Do us all a favour and get on with the times."

"You should have gotten on with the times a long time ago," Hamilton retorted. "It's the 21st century, Jefferson. People are gay, and even if you hadn't turned out to be gay yourself, that doesn't mean you get to insult anyone different than you."

"For that matter," Laurens continued, "just because you _are_ gay doesn't give you the right to be homophobic, either. Either of you," he said the last part to James.

James shot Thomas an anxious look. Thomas, somehow understanding what James was planning, squeezed his hand on reassurance. James took a deep breath to calm himself before speaking. "Actually, I'm not gay," the words came out sounding more self-assured than James himself felt.

Hamilton raised an eyebrow. "Really." For once, his voice didn't sound condemning, merely curious. "Are you bi?"

James shook his head. "No, I'm asexual. Homoromantic," he elaborated, though very few people understood what that meant. Most people didn't have to differentiate their romantic and sexual attractions, and didn't understand the difference.

Luckily, Hamilton seemed to know the term—James wouldn't have felt like explaining the subtle yet substantial difference between sexual and romantic attraction anyway. He shrugged. "Good for you," he said nonchalantly, "though I doubt that it will make one iota of difference to your bigoted friends over there," he pointed at the other side of the classroom, where George Clinton was sneering in their direction. He made an obscene gesture when he saw that James and Thomas were looking at him. Thomas flipped him off.

Before the conflict could devolve into a physical scuffle, their teacher entered the room. He yawned. "Good morning, class," the way he said 'good' made it clear that he doubted the accuracy of the adjective. "Please sit down. We will begin by taking attendance."

As the teacher droned on, Laurens looked around. He frowned. "Where's Lafayette, anyway?" he asked.

Hamilton shrugged. "They are staying at home today. Said they didn't feel too well. Honestly, I think they just overslept and didn't want to show their face without their traditional makeup."

Laurens grinned, most likely at an inside joke. "I see."

James didn't, but for the moment, it did not matter. All that _did_ matter was that Clinton hasn't made an appearance yet, though James didn't except it to last.

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As predicted, the peace did not last.

As soon as the class let out, Eliza all but dragged James and Thomas with her, saying simply that, since they shared their next class—AP calculus, the bane of Thomas' existence—they were to accompany her. Thomas looked ready to make a fuss about how nobody bossed _him_ around, _thank you very much_ , but James quieted him with one look. “Of course, Eliza,” he said diplomatically.

They made it halfway to calculus when they were ambushed by Clinton, Monroe, and Freneau. The latter blocked their way, causing Eliza to frown. “Let us pass, Philip.”

Freneau smiled mockingly. “Don't you worry, Eliza dearest,” he said condescendingly. “You can be on your way. We simply want to talk to Thomas and James here,” the way he said the names, it was as though he had swallowed something bitter.

Eliza scowled. “Whatever you have to say to Thomas and James, you can say to me as well,” she said sternly.

James wondered at what they had done to deserve her loyalty. Eliza seemed to know what she was doing—so long as she was present, Clinton wouldn't do anything to Thomas and James, at least nothing physical. In their minds, it was beneath their honour to fight in the presence of someone of the fairer sex—after all, girls were not to be exposed to such violence, in order to preserve their innocence.

Clinton narrowed his eyes; Thomas could see him weighing his options: confront James and Thomas here and risk 'befouling' an innocent girl, or let the two go. Abruptly, he seemed to make up his mind. “Very well,” he flexed his muscles. “I'm just going to be frank with you. You two are disgusting. You're _queers,_ ” he spat. “You are a disgrace. You tried in vain to hide your abnormality but you weren't successful. You are _sinners_ , and will be doomed to eternal damnation. And the worst thing is that you don't think it's a sin—you're flaunting your deeply reprehensible relationship as though it was _normal,_ ” he sneered.

Someone cleared their voice behind him. “I am surprised that you even know all these fancy words,” Angelica cut in, voice as sharp as glass. She came to stand beside Thomas. "Don't you and your gorilla minions have somewhere else to be?"

Clinton smiled unctuously at Angelica. “Honey, this doesn't concern you, but since you are here, I'm going to assume that it's destiny. See, I was planning to ask you out to prom, and here you are," he went on sleazily. "Truly, God must have wanted us to get together. So how about you scamper off and let me deal with these guys, and I'll… _make it up to you_ later, hmm?” he grinned in what he thought of as a flirtatious way, though even James could see that it had the reverse effect on Angelica.

She grinned, which showed off all her teeth and made her seem uncannily similar to a shark. James shuddered. "First off," Angelica ticked off hey fingers, "what you just said? Rude and inconsiderate. Second, I am a _lesbian,_ in case you missed that for the past four years—and even if I _miraculously_ became attracted to men, I can promise you that you and your little fellows behind you would be the _very last men_ I would consider dating," she smiled wider, stepping closer to Clinton until she was less than a feet away. He attempted to take a step back, to create some distance between himself and Angelica, but Angelica, as quick as a snake, grabbed his shoulder, holding it in a painful grip. "Watch my lips, Clinton," she said, her smile turning into a snarl. " _You. Disgust. Me._ Now get out of my sight."

As soon as she let go of Clinton, he and his two friends scattered off. "This isn't over, Jefferson!" Freneau called menacingly over his shoulder.

"It is, unless you want a repeat of today," Angelica retorted, a warning in her voice. "You had better not come back unless it is to apologize."

She waited until they disappeared out of sight, then turned to Thomas and James. "I heard from John that we have seem to have adopted you," she began, her tone all businesslike. "I also heard that Alex had already given you the shovel talk, and you are in no position to insult us or our life choices anyway, so I will disperse with that,” she smiled again, but this time, her smile seemed more genuine. “Come on, the three of you have calculus soon. Let's talk while we walk," she set off towards their calculus classroom.

James would have found it creepy how Angelica somehow knew what lesson they had and where, except for how Angelica always seemed to know everything. It was just one of those facts of life: two plus two equaled four, the sun always rose in the east, and Angelica was the spinning wheel of the rumour mill.

"I think it's going to be harder for you two than it was for us, since we didn't try to befriend assholes like Clinton or Freneau. I think Monroe might be in a similar position to you, actually," she said thoughtfully, lowering her voice so as not to be overheard by accident. James had to lean in to understand her words. "He's not nearly as vicious as the others. It might just mean that he is a decent human being, of course," she acknowledged, "but seeing as he agrees with Clinton on virtually every organ matter, I highly doubt it," she ignored Thomas' indignant exclamation. "The more likely possibility is that he is in the closet, having only recently come to the realization about this part of himself. I assume that that was what happened to you as well?" she addressed Thomas, who winced.

"Really, it depends on how you define 'recently'," he said, stalling for time.

Angelica narrowed her eyes, fixing Thomas with a scrutinizing stare. "How long have you and James been a couple?" she asked, her voice leaving no doubt that, should they lie, she would know.

Thomas hesitated. James answered in his stead. "Since Christmas break in freshman year," he said honestly.

Angelica whistled. "Almost two years?" she said appreciatively. "And you managed to keep it a secret for that long? I have to admit, I _am_ a tad impressed despite myself. I don't think that I would have been able to keep a relationship as successful as yours seems to be a secret for _two years_."

"We didn't exactly have a choice," Thomas pointed out. "I had only figured out my sexuality in November, and then spent an entire month trying to figure out what the chances of Jemmy reciprocating my feelings were. By Christmas, all social groups had been formed in our year, and it's not as though anyone else would have been accepting of James and myself," he squeezed James' hand, grateful that he could now do it in public since _everyone knew anyway_. If there was one good thing to have resulted from this news, this was it.

Angelica frowned. "We would not have rejected you," she responded.

Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Hamilton hated my guts since day one. He would hardly have been open to my presence."

"He doesn't actually _hate_ you," Angelica informed him with an eye roll. "If he did hate you— _truly_ hate you—he would be ignoring you. Instead, he perceives you as someone smart, someone worth arguing with. Yes, he thinks that your views are crappy—so do I, for the most part—but that doesn't necessarily translate into hate. He sees you as his equal, and believe me when I say that it's the best compliment Alex could ever give you.

"Of course, he will never say this out loud because, for someone as loquacious as Alex, he has some truly terrible communication skills," she rolled her eyes again—it seemed to be her default reaction when talking about Hamilton—then stopped in her tracks. They had arrived at the calculus classroom. "Well," Angelica said lightly, "it was nice to have this chat. You're more than welcome to join us for lunch. Just stick with Eliza," with those words, she twirled on the spot and left, destination unknown.

James and Thomas stared at her retreating figure. "She is _something_ , isn't she?" Thomas breathed.

Eliza laughed. "She really is. Now, the bell will ring any second, and we will look like idiots if we are late even though we had arrived on time, so _let's go_."

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“You're still here,” Hamilton peeked at Thomas through his fingers. “Why are you still here. You are like that annoying stray that Martha found and insisted that we adopt. You even behave cat-like,” he went on. “You have that lazy demeanour, and your obvious superiority complex, and the way you all but purr whenever Madison looks at you. Jeffermraw,” he snorted.

James rolled his eyes and sat down opposite Mulligan, Thomas taking the seat next to his boyfriend. “You are an actual _child_ , Hamilton.”

“Am not,” Hamilton contended, which, really, kind of made James' point. James said as much, and Hamilton snorted.

“So,” Thomas said, biting into a fry, “a little bird told me that you don't actually hate me,” he grinned at the honestly betrayed look on Hamilton's face. James' breath caught in his throat at the sight of Thomas, at the sight of that unguarded smile.

“Who was it?” Hamilton demanded.

Eliza and Angelica shared an amused look. Angelica then spoke. “Chill, Alex. Not everything is about you.”

“It was you, wasn't it?” Alexander sniffed. “I thought that I could trust you. Angelica; _how could you_?”

Angelica raised an eyebrow. “Do you honestly think that I have nothing better to do than follow Jefferson around and gossip about you?” she said in exasperation. “In case you forgot, I'm in my senior year. You might have time to pick fights with everyone, but I have actual _work_ to do.”

Hamilton bristled at the implication that he didn't work as much as—or more than—Angelica, but Laurens distracted him with a quick kiss. Thomas inconspicuously glanced around, but everyone else in the cafeteria seemed to be making a point of ignoring this table. Everyone, that is, except George Clinton, who glared at Thomas, but Thomas figured that they would simply have to weather it out. “Shut up, Alex,” Laurens retorted. “Like Burr likes to say, 'talk less'.”

“He also encourages you to smile more,” Mulligan continued, “but your smile is creepy most of the time, so please don't.”

"You, sir, are a jerk," Hamilton retorted.

"Hi, kettle, I'm pot," Mulligan smirked.

“Are they always like this?” James whispered Eliza, who smiled.

“Most of the time, yes,” she admitted, “but you become accustomed to it. I've become quite good at tuning them out whenever they get like this. Today is actually quiet, compared to normal. Just wait until Laf joins them.”

James inclined his head in acceptable, his mind already making plans of escape for when the Frenchman would return.

“Anyway,” Hamilton said, turning to James and fixing him with a look that James had only seen on his science teacher when he studied the frogs her class was about to dissect. He had not known that the look could also be aimed at humans; he wished he could go back to that blissful ignorance. “I am a little curious, Madison,” Hamilton began, changing the subject, “and I'm sorry if it comes off as rude, but how do you know that you don't like sex if you haven't had sex? I mean, I knew that I was bi because I was attracted to both John and Eliza—“

 _And Angelica, if rumours are to be believed,_ James' mind supplied. _And Burr. And maybe Lafayette, though that's weird beyond words. Then again, this_ is _Hamilton._

“—but how do you define something by its lack?” Hamilton went on.

James raised an eyebrow. He frankly didn't know why he had expected anything that came out of Hamilton's mouth to be tactful. Hamilton did raise a valid question, but James would rather French kiss the man than admit it. “I never said that I don't like sex, though I suppose that's true enough,” he said. “And to respond to your question, let me ask your something: how do you know that you don't like to hug a cactus if you haven't tried it? Go ahead,” James prompted. “ _Hug a fucking cactus_ , Hamilton. _I dare you._ ”

“Don't say that,” Angelica advised him cheerfully. “I know Alex, and he'd actually do it. He doesn't back down from any challenge no matter how obviously stupid.”

“He once shoved an entire pizza into his mouth just because Laf said he wouldn't be able to do it,” Peggy added.

“That's because I'm ambitious,” Hamilton argued.

“Yeah, right,” John snorted. “A true personification of a Slytherin, you are.”

“Shut up, Yoda.”

“How very witty of you.”

“Well,” James tilted his head in consideration, “when you think about it, Slytherin _does_ seem like the house of stubbornly completed dares that definitely weren't thought through the whole way,” he said slowly. “Or at all, really.”

“ _Moving on_ ,” Mulligan said firmly. “Since it looks like you're going to be sticking around, considering how _understanding_ Clinton and his mates are,” he said pointedly, “I think we should know more about each other, if only to avoid awkward silences every other second. So, what are you planning to do when you graduate?”

Thomas frowned. “I've always wanted to go into politics, but I'm guessing that's not going to happen now. If nothing else, my father will make sure of that,” he ignored the pitying looks Peggy shot him, ploughing on. “But I have also been interested in architecture for some time, so I just might go into that instead,” he shrugged.

Angelica nodded approvingly. “Good. That's good. It would suit you, plus you would get a _carte blanche_ on most of your projects, which, considering how much you absolutely _adore_ instructions," he voice was practically dripping with sarcasm, "is nothing but a good thing. What about you, James?”

James shrugged. “Either politics or teaching,” he said. “Honestly, either would be fine.”

Peggy blinked. “Those two are in no way connected,” she stated.

James smiled. “Whoever said that a person's interests must be connected?”

“Point,” Peggy conceded. “I was thinking of going into law enforcement. You could say I have a hero complex, which, _I know_ , Angelica, isn't healthy,” she said at Angelica's glare, “but it's there, and I might as well channel it into something useful.”

“Fascinating,” Thomas admitted.

“Thank you for your input, Spock,” James parroted.

Laurens turned to watch Thomas with a hopeful smile. “Please tell me that you watch TOS,” he pleaded.

“Of course,” Thomas sniffed. “It's the _best_ one.”

Laurens' smile grew. “I just might like you yet, Jefferson.”

Hamilton, always one to take the opportunity to make the conversation about himself again, spoke. “I'm planning on majoring in Law and PoliSci in college,” he informed the table at large, “since you wanted to know.”

“We really didn't,” James pinched his nose.

“Wait,” Thomas tilted his head in surprise. “Are you really going to go for a double major? Are you _insane_?” he asked somewhat unnecessarily, because _duh_ , this was _Hamilton_. Sanity had never been on the table to begin with.

“Fuck yeah, I'm doing the double major,” Hamilton said, as though it was another obvious fact. “I mean, I want to be a lawyer, but I think that I'll want to go into politics _eventually_ , so it won't hurt to have a PhD in PoliSci as well.”

“Does any of this have anything to do with why you're taking Government with seniors despite being a junior?” James asked carefully.

Hamilton shrugged. “I know that I can do it, and I want to be Franklin's TA next year, if only to get the pleasure to tear your essays apart,” he smirked.

Peggy rolled her eyes. “Alexander Hamilton: Doing Things Because He Can,” she mocked him.

“That's basically it, though,” Hamilton agreed.

Thomas' attention was diverted from the conversation by the sound of his phone going off. He took it out and saw a message from his father. Three messages, to be exact.

 

_From: father_

I heard about what has happened.

I want you out of the house by five.

Don't bother coming back until you've renounced that hideous lifestyle.

 

Thomas slammed his phone on the table, drawing everybody's attention to him. He closed his eyes, trying to fight off the tears because dammit, he knew that this was going to happen, it wasn't as though it was a surprise, his father had never been a tolerant type—

He felt, rather than saw, James wrap his arms around him and draw him into a comforting hug. Thomas absentmindedly imagined what Hamilton and the others must be thinking, having never seen this side of Thomas and James before.

Thomas heard James wordlessly pick up Thomas' phone and type in the password. He must have read the texts, because the next thing Thomas knew, James was whispering sweet nothings into Thomas' ear.

As though from a distance, Thomas heard Hamilton ask James whether Thomas was okay, and for James to reply in the negative. Thomas knew that he must look bad for even Hamilton to worry about him.

Thomas forced himself to look at James. "Can I stay at your house? He asked.

James nodded vigorously. "We have an extra bedroom in case we have friends over, he said. You could sleep there.

"What's going on?” Hamilton repeated his question, more forcefully this time.

Thomas pointedly did not look at Hamilton when he replied, “My father kicked me out. Y'know, for being gay,” he knew that his drawl was stronger when he was upset, and this definitely qualified

Hamilton nodded and took out his own phone, typing away at a furious speed. Laurens frowned. “That's _horrible_ ,” he said. “No parent should render their child homeless just because their kid's gay. Not even _my_ father is that bad, and believe me when I say that my father wouldn't exactly qualify for the 'Father Of The Year' Award.”

Thomas shrugged because really, what else could he do? “These things do happen occasionally, Laurens. I suppose that I am that 'occasionally'. Somebody has to be,” he couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice, and he felt James start to rub circles on his back to calm him down.

Abruptly, Hamilton looked up from his phone. “Jefferson, you're staying with us,” he stated.

“What,” Thomas blinked, feeling as though he had missed some important conversation, “are you _talking about_ , Hamilton?”

Hamilton rolled his eyes, as though bothered that he had to explain his thought process to them mere mortals; still, he indulged Thomas. “I just messaged Washington,” he shoved his phone in Thomas' direction, causing Thomas to have to lean back in order to read what Hamilton was trying to show him, “explaining the situation. He said that you're more than welcome to use any of the _dozen_ empty bedrooms at our house,” the tone in his voice implied that he dearly wished that it had been an exaggeration.

“Why would _you_ do that?” Thomas marveled. "What do you have to gain from this?"

Hamilton flushed, avoiding Thomas' eyes. “Contrary to popular belief, I'm not just an asshole who only does things when they benefit me. You might have terrible opinions, but as someone has told you,” he glanced at Eliza this time, “I don't actually hate you. You're a good, if _horribly misguided_ , person. Besides, nobody deserves what just happened to you. And yes, I suppose that you can choose to stay with your boyfriend," he glanced briefly at James, "but his parents aren't exactly supportive either, and it would be harder for them to do their 'selective ignorance' thing—yes, I know all about that,” he stopped for breath, the continued, “with the both of you under the same roof. So, you can choose to live with your boyfriend, or you can take my very supportive foster parents up on their offer. It's your choice. A fair bit of warning, first,” he smirked, his voice taking on a teasing tone, “Laf and I speak exclusively in French, so you might want to brush up on the language.”

“You asshole,” Thomas retorted. He caught James' look. James seemed to encourage Thomas to go for it, so Thomas smiled. “Text Washington that I'd love to live with you. Well,” he frowned, “I'd love to live with them and Laf. You, I'll tolerate.”

Hamilton grinned as Eliza stole his phone and texted Washington with an affirmative response. “Who are you and what have you done with Thomas Jefferson?”

“Shut it, Hamilton.”

“Never.”

✷ 　 ˚ 　　　　　　　  
⋆ . .　 　 　 　  
·　　.  
* ✫ 　  
　 * *  
　 　 *  
　　　　 *

Thomas got another text from Hamilton during English class, one of the few classes he did not share with anyone save Jemmy. He surreptitiously opened his phone.

 

_From: asshat housemate_

also, forgot to mention, we basically live off laf's cooking or takeout since

a) gwash cannot cook to save his life

b) martha only cooks when she is PISSED and you don't ever want to experience that TRUST ME ON THIS

c) I have been declared a fire hazard three years ago

 

Thomas may or may not have snickered at that, causing James to look over at him in bewilderment. He waved off his boyfriend's concern, watching as James made that adorable expression that said 'I am not yet legitimately concerned but something is Going On'. He lived for that expression.

Maybe, just maybe, things would be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> The thing was, I read _The Losers_ by _hellosongbird_ and went, 'Well, I want to read more of that. (And maybe structure paragraphs a bit better because I've got a mild case of OCPD, but details.)' So I wrote my own version, because I was genuinely interested in how this would work out. This ended up talking more about James' asexuality than Thomas' homophobic parents, but I suspect that I will remedy that. Eventually.
> 
> Let me know if you enjoyed it, and whether you would be interested in having something particular in this 'verse.


End file.
